


At The Cliff Edge

by Spoon888



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Relationships, Forever Salty About Starscream, Gen, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Power Imbalance, Reconciliation, Where's His Apology Dammit, post death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Dead isn't gone, and Starscream isn't finished with him yet.
Relationships: Megatron & Starscream (Transformers), Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 212





	At The Cliff Edge

_You flare, you flicker, you fade._

"And in the end all your tomorrows become yesterdays," Megatron recited quietly, optics fluttering online. 

For someone who was dead, without memory banks to retain the now frivolous tidbits concerning the living world, Megatron decided he had a rather good memory.

Even if his last living moments had been hazy, a painful blur of regret and guilt. And Magnus's face...

Perhaps he wasn't meant to remember the details. Perhaps it was for the best. 

It didn't take too long for Megatron to pull together the scattered pieces of himself and manifest into something of a corporeal being. There was a comforting relief in being able to look down and find himself in a familiar body. Death might have been a dreadful bore if he'd had to experience it as nothing more than a floating orb of light, his spark hovering about listlessly on this hollow plain, waiting for it's true end. 

The mobius generator might have been the merciful option then. It was just as boringly anticlimactic, but at least that way he wouldn't have been aware of it. He hoped. 

He lifted his hands. They were imperfect and worn. Every scratch and scuff and dent remained. Proof that no slate was ever wiped clean. He was the same as he'd been in life, rebuilt by his memory. Exactly like what one expected to see when they glanced at their reflection. 

There was a strange blur of colours over the centre of his chest though, exactly where an insignia would be. Nothing appeared there, no matter how hard he focused. He was neither Autobot not Decepticon. 

Everything else he seemed to have some sense of control over though. His surroundings faded in and out as his concentration waned. He focused, and above him bloomed a sun and clear sky. The phantom sensation of something brushing his leg gave him cause to look down.

Blue flowers. 

He shut his optics with a breath, spark leaping, and when he opened them again, the field was gone. 

This time he was at the edge of the Rust Sea, looking out across a vast expanse of dull amber. Gases rose in visible curls before being carried away by the breeze. Megatron inhaled deeply, but he couldn't smell the trademark sulphur and methane. 

But he wouldn't, would he. He wasn't really here. 

"- _I'd sooner trust a feral scraplet!_ " a low voice snarled. An angry voice. 

_His_ voice, Megatron realised, turning from the Rust Sea to look up, up at the cliffs overhanging it, where two figures were stood arguing, their voices drifting down to reach him. He recognised himself, the fusion-cannon worn proudly on his arm.

With him was a seeker, wings pointed up, posture defensive-

"- _ **my** plan, **my** ambush_!" Hearing the snide drawl of his once Second-In-Command knocked Megatron for a loop.

This was a memory. Playing out in front of him like a scene. He remembered this conversation, a whole lifetime ago now. He couldn't recall it ending well. 

Another blink and he on the cliff edge, directly behind the arguing couple. He -his younger self- was wearing a scowl, his jaw tight and flexing with visible rage. Starscream's cheeks were flushed, his wings shaking at the tips. 

They looked so real. Megatron had to remind himself that it was just a memory, a slowly fading processor's attempt at extending his consciousness as long as it could, before he was taken from this in-between and reabsorbed into the AllSpark. 

"- _not going to let you go charging down there like an Insecticon in heat to ruin it, all so you can come back up afterwards and tell me the tactics were flawed._ " Starscream was arguing, and he seemed so young here. Too young. 

How long had it been. Two, three million years? The seeker's vocaliser was still cracking with the emotional strain of struggling to hold his own against him. It would be many more years before Starscream started out-sparing him verbally, but even here, even _then_ , he'd been braver than the fiercest of gladiators, challenging him fearlessly. 

Megatron found himself watching his firecracker of a Second argue with a fond smile. He'd missed this. 

"- _you always do this_!" The seeker stamped his pede. " _You claim I have to prove myself to you and then you shove me aside because you're too much of a control freak to trust me. Let me prove myself!_ " 

" _You're doing a fine job of impressing me with this tantrum_ ," Megatron's past-self wasn't finding Starscream's impassioned protest as amusing as his present self was. " _You will prove yourself to me if this plan should work. Consider yourself lucky you've been given another chance, after last time-"_

Megatron honestly couldn't recall what 'last time' was being referred to. Looking back on it now he and Starscream had committed so many tactical follies it would be impossible to remember them all. And now that he thought about it, it was a minor miracle they'd both lived as long as they had...

" _Last time was your fault!"_ Starscream yelled, pointing at him. 

" _Starscream_ ," his past self warned dangerously, expression darkening. 

Megatron had forgotten how short his temper could be. It was uncomfortable to watch from the outside looking in. How little control he had exercised. 

The young, naive Starscream in front of him either didn't recognise the danger, or just wasn't intimidated by it. It was always something that had both riled and impressed Megatron -the stupidity, the unshakable stubbornness. 

" _My tactics are never flawed_." Starscream argued, denta bared aggressively. " _If there is ever a fault, it's **you**!" _

It was a surprise to even Megatron - the slap.

The _clap_ of the harsh blow rang across the open Rust Sea below them. Starscream stumbled back, hand to his dented cheek. Megatron had already stepped forward to defend him before remembering he couldn't. He had done it. There was no remorse in his younger self's expression. 

Starscream had fallen silent. He didn't look up, hand still pressed over the dent in his cheek. From his lack of reaction Megatron wondered if this memory was the first time he had ever hit Starscream. Was it terrible that he couldn't even remember? 

" _Get out of my sight,"_ the Megatron in the memory growled. 

Narrowed optics flicked up to cast the younger Megatron a withering glower. Starscream straightened back up slowly, lowering his hand to reveal one striking black paint transfer across his dark cheek. He spat blood to the side and cursed, turning on his heel to stride down the slope of the cliff. 

Megatron didn't look back at himself to see what his reaction had been. He followed Starscream, quickening his stride to catch up to him.

It was pointless, because this was a memory and he had had his chance to apologise three million years ago, hundreds of times over, and he never had. Not once. Even at the end. Even after renouncing his past ways. He had never- he hadn't-

"Starscream!" He called out to him, reaching for this shoulder. His hand passed through the memory, distorting it into static for just a moment before it reformed as perfectly as if Starscream were really there with him. 

He slowed to a stop. Starscream walked until he disappeared into the edges of Megatron's memories. 

He stared at the empty space for a moment before looking back at himself, self-hatred swarming in his gut like a nest of angry sharkticons. The Megatron of three million years ago was standing tall on the cliff edge, looking out across the Rust Sea majestically. 

The Megatron of the afterlife would have liked nothing more than to push him off. 

He was reluctant to linger here with the dark shadow of his past self, so he closed his optics and thought of somewhere else. Anywhere else.

His vision became flooded with the neon of royal purple - the stealth lighting on the bridge of the Nemesis. 

This was a place that held some of his darkest memories. But also a space he had occupied so often it bred a sense of sentimentality. 

He stepped deeper into the empty space, absently retracing steps he had taken time and time again over the millennias he had commanded the ship. He had forgotten how unnecessarily menacing the Nemesis had been, cold and sterile with it's jagged edges and unmarked drops. Such a far cry from the warmth of the Lost Light. 

He strolled along the walkway above the sunken monitoring pits, bemused at the lack of railings. He had never bothered much with safety barriers. Part of him had always found a perverse sort of sadistic glee in watching distracted members of the bridge crew take cluttering falls off the edge into the pit below, savouring the snort of amusement from his Second In Command - always appreciative of the unintentional slapstick.

That sound manifested out of his memories when he turned around saw them. The faint huff of Starscream's engines as he tried and failed to muffle a laugh quickened the spin of Megatron spark into a tornado.

" _There goes another one_ ," the seeker's voice purred. 

They were occupying the captain's seat at the top of the bridge. The space was unlit, and bathed in menacing shadows, making their figures harder to see. The smoulder of Megatron's optics were gentle and contented, glowing softly out of the darkness. Two long white legs were slung over the wide armrest, crossed elegantly at the ankle. The large black hand resting on Starscream's knee seemed to dwarf him. 

" _We're losing more Decepticons to work-place accidents than we are to Autobots_ ," Starscream's sultry voice murmured, more confident and strong than it had been in the last memory - on the cliff edge. " _One might start to think you like seeing them suffer?"_

" _Of course I don't_ ," his own voice denied strongly - but there was a warmth in his tone that Megatron could still feel through the years. A deep, complicated affection. " _But I know you do_." 

" _How thoughtful. My happiness is more valued than I realised."_

The hand crept higher, " _Your happiness comes with a great many benefits."_

Megatron had forgotten how he and Starscream had indulged themselves like this. The unprofessionalism was shocking, and looking back on the actions of his younger self, somewhat embarrassing. 

But watching his own hand squeeze Starscream's thigh and sneak ever further up, the only true feeling he was experiencing now was the overwhelming sensation of longing.

He had had such smooth armour, did Starscream. Lightweight for flight and expertly moulded for aerodynamics. It had felt like silk under his fingertips.

It had crumpled like paper in his fists. 

He felt nauseous suddenly, his mouth dry and his tank plummeting. 

Starscream had always come back. Megatron couldn't comprehend how anyone could have stood it, stood _him_ , after all he'd done. 

He turned his back on the scene as Starscream was murmuring another little quip to him, sounding genuinely, spark-breakingly happy. Blissfully unaware of the years to come, of now much harder it became, how much darker his world would become.

Megatron searched for moments that held less emotional weight, places he hadn't visited often enough to prompt moments of nostalgia. But his memory had locked onto that one nexus point. Wherever he went, Starscream was a constant presence, beautiful and charming and angry and vengeful. 

Megatron saw himself charging across smokey battlefields, Starscream soaring through the fires and decimating their enemies above. He saw them stood together, covered in blood and dirt, fighting back-to-back. Saw them working together late into the night, pouring over maps and moving pieces and cursing each other out when they disagreed with one another after weeks of sleepless nights and defeat after defeat. 

He watched Starscream succeed against the odds, and receive nothing but criticism when he should have heard praise. 

He saw himself fleeing lost causes, calling retreats and leaving Starscream behind. Again. And again. 

As the memories grew worse he tried to pass through then faster, until he was in a confusing vortex that reeked of resentment and impatience, a compilation of backhands and shoves, spat curses and cruel words. Starscream's young face aged, and his quiet, if reluctant, admiration for his leader turned cold and stoic right before Megatron's optics. As the fights turned fiercer, his optics grew wilder, until Megatron was watching himself dodge attacks and betrayals very which way. Saw himself beat Starscream down because he never learned. _Never stopped._

He brought his hands to his optics to cover them, block the memories out. Stop himself seeing every mistake he'd made play out in front of him in worsening degrees. 

"Shutting your optics won't do much good," Starscream's voice told him, sounding sharper and clearer than it had in any of the memories so far. "You can't stop yourself from seeing what's already in your head." 

Megatron pulled his hands away from his optics. The dizzying carousel of memories had calmed. He was back on the cliff, overlooking the Rust Sea. "...Why here again?" He murmured to himself. 

"Because _I_ like here," Starscream's voice said again, stuffily this time. "Not everything is about _you_." 

Megatron whipped around. And there was Starscream. 

But it wasn't the young impressionable seeker from his memories. This one seemed ...timeless. Much more recognisable to him. The Starscream he had last seen at the trial, stabbing him in the back one last time. A fonder parting gift than he could have ever hoped for. 

Megatron stared at him, amazed that his processor could conjure up such a true representation of him. Starscream's optics, gold-irised crimson, were uniquely beautiful. And they were staring right back at him. 

"You can see me?" He tentatively spoke.

"Unfortunately," Starscream slowly paced up the cliff to reach him on the edge. "Just when I finally thought I was rid of you for good, they go ahead and kill you, make you my problem again." He tutted, "Typical NAILs." 

"I don't recall this memory," Megatron murmured, confused. 

"Because I'm not a memory," Starscream rolled his optics. "Honestly Megatron, _you're_ dead, _I'm_ dead, get with the programme." 

"I'm not delusional," Megatron growled, irritated "I know I'm dead. And I know that you..."

His vocalised seized up. He couldn't seem to say it. 

"Oh, so you heard," Starscream acknowledged mildly, sounding much like he was discussing the weather. "Who told you? My trine? Or did you hear it from that flashy 'co-captain' of yours, _Twinkimus_ Prime?" 

"Rodimus," Megatron glared down at him, "And no, I... The news travelled far." 

"Yes, I'm sure there was great rejoicing." 

"I didn't rejoice," Megatron fought the tightness in his chest. "...I regret that I wasn't there." 

"Why, because you didn't finish me off yourself?" Starscream placed his hands on his waist and cocked his hip. Megatron looked away, choosing to stare out at the emptiness ahead of them. 

Starscream shrugged, "I almost wish you'd been there too, so I could prove you wrong after all these years." 

"You did," Megatron swallowed. "Many times over. I simply- I lost my way. I should have told you before, when things were ...better between us." 

He didn't say 'good', because he wasn't sure if things between them ever had been. 

Starscream was looking out across the Rust Sea too now. "It would have been nice to hear," he said wistfully. "Would have been nice to know, especially at the end." 

"You remember it?" 

"Dying?" Starscream met his gaze. "Some of it. My trine, they -" he stopped and looked aside again. "I remember being alone when it happened. And then I was here. And I was rather enjoying it until you came stumbling in here with all your unresolved guilt and ridiculous pining, turning this place into a circus of morbid depression." 

Megatron shook his head in disbelief, "How can you be here if these are just the projections of my memories?" 

"You haven't changed at all," Starscream sighed. He gestured out ahead of them, "We're not in your head. This plain of reality is only moulded and shaped by our consciousness, not sustained by it. You're not the only spark in here." 

The landscape began to shift, and before Megatron's optics the muted red of the Rust Sea transmuted into a luscious green field. Earth. 

"See," Starscream said smugly. "This is a moment from my memory." 

Megatron's spark began to ache, because he had seen so many versions of a past Starscream since coming here, that he hardly dared believe he would finally be faced with the real one. That they would cross paths had never even occurred to him. 

"How did you find me?" He asked. 

Starscream looked at him like he as stupid. "You called me." 

"No I didn't," he denied quickly. 

"Yes you did," Starscream snapped. "All emotional and spark-felt too. So embarrassing. I'm just glad we're dead and no one but me heard you." 

Megatron wracked his processor for a explanation. The first memory, after he'd relived himself hitting Starscream -he had called out to the seeker's projection.

"I wasn't calling for you." 

"Oh," Starscream tilted his helm. "How many other Starscream's do you know? Should I be jealous?" 

"I-" Megatron glowered at him. "What I _meant_ was that I wasn't beckoning you. I was..." 

Starscream arched an expectant brow. "You were what?" 

"I was calling out to a memory. A younger you." 

"Yes, I imagine you miss the 'younger me' immensely," Starscream scoffed, taking a few steps forwards and lowering himself into the grass. Something he never would have done on the real Earth for fear of mud and insects. "That foolish, naive idiot who was so desperate for your approval they let you do just about anything to them." 

The words sent a chill down Megatron's back strut. "You were never a fool." 

"I have a thousand of my own memory files featuring you yourself contradicting that statement," Starscream threaded his fingers through the long grass. "You were so handsome and charismatic back then. Entrancing, even. I believed everything you told me. Sometimes, I even thought you could save me." 

"You didn't need saving," Megatron came to stand beside him, a sense of desperation squeezing around his spark when he spoke. "If there is one thing I could go back and tell your younger self it would be to look for another way to change the world. And that you were too clever and brilliant by far to even think of settling for tinpot revolutionary like me." 

"My, my," Starscream breathed softly, fisting his hand in the grass and pulling it up, mud sprinkling from the roots. Resentment lay thick in his voice. "Haven't you grown. Those Autobots really did a number on you. But I'm afraid peacetime didn't make quite as much a virtuous mech out of me. I died _unreformed_." 

"You sacrificed yourself to safe thousands," Megatron countered, staring down at the seeker's hunched back. "You died a hero."

"I died alone," Starscream said softly, repeating his words from earlier. He let the grass tumble through his fingers. "And no one will remember me." 

"I'll remember you." 

Starscream threw him a withering glare, "You're dead." 

"I'm right here." 

Starscream snorted wetly, swiping his arm across his optics angrily. "Fantastic. The only offer of comfort I can get is from my worst enemy." 

"We don't have to be enemies anymore."

"Easy for you say, with all that 'forgiveness' nonsense. You may have managed to make friends with a bunch of rejected Autobots and a discount Prime, but I still hate you." 

"If you still hate me, then why did you come to me when you heard me call?" Megatron asked softly. 

Starscream's shoulders lifted in a shrug, "Probably the same reason I always come back..." 

Megatron lowered himself down beside him, tolerating the tickle of grass on his armour. Starscream was prodding at a long blade of grass, frowning to hide watery optics.

Megatron's knee brushed Starscream's, and he was momentarily startled to realise they were still corporeal to each other. 

And Starscream didn't shift away. 

Megatron swallowed thickly.

"I can't take any of it back," he began, watching Starscream's nibble fingers pluck at the grass distractedly. "I'm torn between wishing I had never met you and inflicted all this suffering on you, and finding it too reprehensible to imagine my life without you having been there with me. I couldn't have done any of it without you, Starscream. Without you, it _would_ have been a riot." 

Starscream turned his head sharply to the side, looking away. 

Megatron paused for a moment, turning his head up to look at the sky. Fluffy white clouds drifted slowly overhead. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you so much. For blaming you. For leaving scars that lingered so long after I left. For making you feel small when you were anything but." He looked away from the clouds, towards the seeker next to him. "But I'm not sorry I met you." 

Starscream's fingers paused. "For someone with so many apologies left to make, you're not very good at giving them." 

"It's fortunate that I'll have an eternity to practice on you then." 

Starscream threw a handful of earth at him, and through the grass disrupting his vision, Megatron caught just a glimpse of Starscream's infamous smirk before he shielded it with a wing. 

Hope bloomed anew in Megatron. Perhaps this time round he'd finally get things right. 


End file.
